


Saints and Sinners

by Alixtii



Category: Hairspray (2007)
Genre: 1960s, Baltimore, Bechdel Fix, Bible, Canon Het Relationship, Character of Color, Christianity, Civil Rights Movement, College, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Female Character of Color, Female Protagonist, Femslash, Het, Marriage, Married Couple, Maryland, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Multi, Musicals, Noncanonical Het Relationship, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Prison, Singing, Student Activism, University of Maryland, Yuletide, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:45:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixtii/pseuds/Alixtii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>October 1968: Tracy and Penny are jailed after a student demonstration at UMd. But the song of love and hope plays on--mostly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saints and Sinners

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanalle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=shanalle).



"Well-known student organizers Tracy Turnblad and Penny Pingleton were taken into custody this afternoon for their roles in the UMd student riots." the TV announcer reported. "Our viewers might remember Miss Turnblad from her controversial stint on the Corny Collins Show here on Channel 5 from 1962 through 1964, when--"

The Channel 5 announcer began to launch into a retrospective that Corny himself neither needed nor wanted, so he got up, crossed to the set, and turned it off. Of course he remembered Tracy. How could anyone ever forget Tracy? "The kids are in jail again, Maybelle," he called out.

Motormouth Maybelle stuck her head out of the kitchen. "Do I need to ask which kids you're talking about?" she asked, shaking her head. "Sometimes I wonder if those two know what's best for them."

"Maybe we're better off if they don't," Corny suggested.

Maybelle frowned. "Maybe," she said, but didn't seem convinced.

"Is your son still dating the thin one?" Corny asked.

"No," answered Maybelle. "They broke up around a year ago. All amiable, though; still keep in touch. They're good kids."

Corny nodded. "The nicest kids in town," he mused. Most of the kids who had been on the show - Amber von Tussle included, her mother notwithstanding - had been good kids. But it had taken Tracy to get the show to take a stand. Being nice hadn't been good enough. "She brought out the best in us."

Maybelle sighed, then entered the room and sat next to him, smelling of brisket. "If you'd managed to keep your hands off those pretty young things," she reminded him, "maybe the best would still be being brought out of you."

He sighed; he should have known that Maybelle wasn't going to let him off easy. It was true: his indiscretions had given the network an excuse to cancel his show without seeming officially anti-integration. But he wasn't a saint, after all.

He wasn't Tracy.

Maybelle grabbed his chin, held it tight in her strong grip so that he was forced to look her right in the eyes. "Now don't go pitying yourself, Corny," she said sternly. "The question is what you are going to do now."

There was a reason why he loved Motormouth Maybelle.

. . .

Prudence Pingleton clenched her teeth as she glared at her daughter's face staring up at her from the front page of the Baltimore Sun. Below the fold, thank God, but the front page! Penny always had taken after her father. Now both she and Harold were in prison.

It wasn't as if Prudence could be blamed, of course - although it rankled her to know that she would be blamed nonetheless. She knew what calumny the likes of Claudia and Mary Jean would whisper behind her back. But who cared for the idle gossip of women? Her reward would be in heaven, she reminded herself, for all the persecution she faced in this life. It's not as if she had ever spared the rod or spoiled the child, God knew; she had brought Penny up just the way the Good Book said. It could hardly be blamed on Prudence if Satan had managed to snatch away Penny despite everything she had done.

She put away the newspaper, exchanging it for the Good Book itself.

"Behold now, I have two daughters which have not known man; let me, I pray you, bring them out unto you, and do ye to them as is good in your eyes: only unto these men do nothing; for therefore came they under the shadow of my roof."

. . .

"Wilbur!" Edna Turnblad cried as she flew into the Har-Dee-Har Hut. "Tracy's on TV again!"

"What is it, Edna?" Wilbur asked as he made his way through his joke shop. He didn't have any customers at the moment (a too-frequent occurence), so he could give his full attention to his wife. "What happened?"

"There was some big demonstration at Tracy's college," Edna told him, panting. "And then the police took away Tracy!"

"That's our Tracy," Wilbur said seriously, putting his arm around Edna. "Always making us proud."

Edna beamed back at him, and Wilbur smiled. A loving wife, a wonderful kid, and a joke shop of his own. Life didn't get any better than this.

. . .

Penny stared out from behind the bars of the county jail cell she shared with Tracy. It was a sight that had grown familiar; sometimes it seemed that she and Tracy spent more time in the klink than in class any more.

They had gone through this routine enough times for Penny not to feel worried; Tracy had connections now, people who would pay her bail so that Mr. and Mrs. Turnblad wouldn't have to. They'd be given a court date and show up for it, at which point in all likelihood all charges would be dropped. Making a martyr out of Tracy was rarely a safe thing to do, as the Governor had learned to his chagrin almost two years ago.

Tracy herself sat on the bench of the jail cell, humming to herself and idly tapping her foot. It was physically impossible to keep Tracy down, Penny knew.

She frowned and sat down next to Tracy. "I wish I had your spirit," she admitted.

Tracy put her arm around her best friend. "People are good at heart," she reminded Penny. "It's just that not everyone knows it already. We'll get through this."

Penny didn't doubt they could get through it; she just wished she had Tracy's faith in humankind. It was true that, in the last six years, they had seen the best of men and women: people had selflessly come together to stand up for what was right. But they had also seen the worst of people: deliberate ignorance, hatred, bigotry, and brutality.

As if recognizing Penny wasn't quite convinced, Tracy gave Penny a quick squeeze and began to sing.

Like always, Tracy's voice was clear and bright and beautiful. She didn't sing loudly, but it was as if every other sound fell quiet to make way for each syllable, each note of Tracy's song. Penny heard nothing but Tracy's voice and the harmony she could almost convince herself that she could hear supporting Tracy.

Tracy sang of hope, of perseverance, of grace, and most of all of love. Penny could feel the tears filling her eyes as Tracy sang, then found herself singing through them as she joined in the refrain. They sang the words together- though Penny had never heard them before, she found she knew them nonetheless - words speaking of friendship and the transformational power of love.

And as Tracy finished her song and the mysterious music that Penny could swear she heard died away, she, without thinking, leaned over and brought her lips to Tracy's and kissed her.

Tracy, apparently as caught up in the magical moment as Penny was, kissed her back, and there was the moment when all the world consisted of that kiss, that connection. But the kiss ended eventually, and when it did reality came flooding back, and the jail cell was silent again except for the sounds of Penny and Tracy breathing. (Penny, it must be admitted, doing so somewhat more heavily than was normal.) She found herself staring into the serenely smiling face of her best friend.

"But. . . ." Penny began. But what? It was not, she was forced to admit to herself - she could never lie to herself when Tracy was around - the first time she had imagined this, had dreamt of it. But every time before she had been ashamed of herself, forced herself to forget the secret desires which had struck at her when she was alone.

But why? Because it was wrong? Tracy had shown her that so many of the things that her mother had taught her were wrong were not. Above all, what had Tracy taught her if not that love could never be wrong? After all, she had cherished the time she had spent with Seaweed. How was this anything different?

She leaned over for another kiss, and as her lips again touched Tracy's, she was certain that she heard the sounds of an orchestra swelling up around them.


End file.
